


Confession

by Josselin



Category: The Borgias (Showtime TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27425881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: “Will you hear my confession, brother?”
Relationships: Cesare Borgia/Lucrezia Borgia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	Confession

Lucrezia came to Cesare’s rooms at their mother’s villa in the morning, as the maid was coming in to tend to the fire, and as Cesare was shooing the woman from the night before out the servant’s door.

Lucrezia was fully dressed, her hair braided demurely in a net of gold on her head. One tendril had fallen loose and rested delicately on her neck. 

Cesare waved a dismissive hand at the maid, and she left, closing the servant’s door behind her, and Cesare and Lucrezia were alone.

Cesare closed his eyes and rested his head on the pillow. The drink the night before had been awful. It had tasted like piss and it left his head feeling wretched.

He could feel the bed dip, next to him, as Lucrezia sat down.

“His holiness was here for breakfast,” Lucrezia said, with a secretive tone.

“What does Father want?” Cesare said.

“I think he came to see Mother yesterday evening,” Lucrezia said. “He said--”

There was something new in her tone, which caused Cesare to open his eyes.

“Brother,” Lucrezia continued, “Father wants me to be married.” Her eyes were wide.

Cesare closed his eyes again. “No.”

“He said--”

“I’ll speak to him,” Cesare interrupted. “You’re too young to be married.”

“But I’m--”

“Do not fret about it,” Cesare interrupted again. “I won’t let it happen.”

She was quiet for a moment. Cesare half-opened his eyes again, looking at her. Her lips were slightly parted and she was wrapping the one free tendril of hair around one of her fingers thoughtfully.

“When I marry--” Cesare frowned, but she continued “--what do you think it will be like?” It wasn’t a notion Cesare liked thinking about. “What if my husband is unkind?” she said.

“You will never marry,” Cesare said.

Lucrezia frowned. “You would leave me to wither?” she said, her tone sharp. “Without passion or love or family?”

Cesare sat up in bed to glare at her. “I am your family.”

She smiled at that, moving closer on the top of the bedclothes. “Will you be mine forever, brother?” she said. “I couldn’t bear to be without you.” She edged herself close enough to him that she could rest her head on his shoulder. 

Cesare adjusted the sheets over his groin. “Of course,” he told her.

She kissed his lips, and he permitted it, because she was too young to know better.

“You will never marry,” she said, “and I shall never marry, and we will only be each others’.”

Cesare agreed, nodding, and she kissed him again, and then rested her cheek against his chest. He pressed another kiss to her hair, and then stroked her face gently. He was only humoring her, of course, but he couldn’t help thinking about what it would be like. To keep her safe and close, to have her love and attention for himself only. He would prefer to have her affections forever than those of any other woman. He could dote on her and bask in her devotion. 

And since his father’s sacrifice of him to the Church kept him from marrying, regardless, it was only fair if Lucrezia was his, in compensation.

Lucrezia shifted on the bed, and moved one of her legs over his. He shuffled his hips back away from hers and kissed the top of her head.

She pouted. “Don’t you want to hold me?”

“I am holding you, my heart,” he said.

“I want to be closer,” she squirmed a bit, in his arms. “I’m cold.”

He eyed her. It was not chilled, in his mother’s villa. It was spring, and there was a fire burning in the brazier, thanks to the maid, even though it was warm enough inside the bedcurtains.

But her dress was light, and the material was fine--he sighed, and raised his blanket for her to join him beneath it.

***

Their mother stopped him before he mounted his horse in the courtyard. “Cesare,” Vannozza said.

“Mother,” he said, kissing her cheek and taking the reins for his horse.

She did not hesitate in making her point. “Lucrezia is too young to be wed.”

Cesare grunted. 

“Can you speak with your father, can you convince him--”

“I will take care of it,” Cesare promised her.

That only meant, when his attempts to persuade his father failed, that he had broken two promises.

“It is a question of money, Cesare,” said Rodrigo, and Cesare had no solution that produced as much gold as selling Lucrezia to the highest bidder, and so his entreaties to his father were worthless. 

Rodrigo showed his power by installing Lucrezia in the palace and banishing Vannozza to her villa and forbidding the two of them to see each other.

Cesare managed only a small victory, taking Lucrezia out of her father’s house and away from that serpent Giulia Farnese, to stay with him in a townhouse near the river. Once she was installed there, he sent a man to fetch Vannozza, and let mother and daughter have a tearful afternoon reunion.

Rodrigo seemed to indulgently ignore Cesare’s minor rebellion, perhaps because the wedding celebrations were well underway, Cesare himself had been bullied into presiding, and the first cart of gold which that bastard had paid for Lucrezia had already arrived.

It meant that Lucrezia was in Cesare’s townhouse the week before she was to be married, when Cesare was doing very little and drinking very much.

She spent an evening with him. The better part of an hour was spent crying in his lap, then she retreated to the other side of the room to cry at him from a distance. Her words were cruel, about how he had deserted her--though he was right there. Or that he didn’t love her after all-- “I do,” he insisted. 

By the time the candle was half burnt, she was red-eyed but calm on the edge of his bed. “Mother said,” she swallowed. Lucrezia had gotten control of her voice again. “Mother said that sometimes, it can be pleasurable, for a woman?”

Cesare’s hands gripped tighter on the arm of the chair he was seated in.

“But Mother also said,” Lucrezia continued. Cesare did not want to know any of what their mother had told Lucrezia about her wedding night. “That sometimes, there is pain?” Lucrezia was looking at him, imploring. “Do you think it will be painful, Brother?”

Cesare was certain it would not be painful for Lucrezia, because he was going to kill Sforza before he ever touched his sister. “I will kill anyone who tries to touch you.”

Lucrezia turned her head to the side, and then turned back to look at him through her lashes. “Mother says,” Cesare’s grip on the chair tightened again, he didn’t want to hear more about it. “Mother says that it is sinful, to touch myself, there.”

Cesare’s eyes widened. “Have you?”

“Sometimes.” There was a moment of quiet. Cesare felt he was barely breathing. The log settled in the brazier. “Sometimes I can’t sleep,” Lucrezia said. “Especially if I’ve spent the evening with you.”

He knew he should have forbidden her from his chambers. He probably should have banned her from his house entirely, left her to the palace and Giulia Farnese.

“Now I’m to be married,” she said, only slightly accusing. “I wanted to know, to know more of what it was like, to be touched, there. My husband will touch me there, won’t he?” she had a stubborn tilt to her chin. “So I wanted to see.”

“Your husband will expect you to be a virgin,” Cesare said.

“Of course,” Lucrezia said. She looked as innocent as an angel.

“Touching yourself is--” it was a bit difficult for Cesare to speak, “--a sin.”

“Will you hear my confession, brother?” Lucrezia said, moving to kneel next to the chair he was seated in. It put her head at the same level as his cock, Cesare observed, though hopefully his robes made that less obvious to her than it was to him. Lucrezia took his hand and kissed his ring. 

“Go ahead,” he said, because he couldn’t rise from his chair and he couldn’t say anything else.

Lucrezia’s confession involved a great deal of specificity about her impure thoughts. She went on for some time. Cesare closed his eyes. 

“And then,” she continued. “I imagined that my husband was touching me, and Brother, I wished he were you.”

“Oh, Lucrezia,” Cesare said, which was probably better than other words he might have said, though his strangled tone might have given too much away.

Lucrezia had yet more impure thoughts to confess, which included the notion that she overheard a prostitute talking about using her mouth, but Lucrezia did not believe mouths could be used for such foul purposes, a mouth was what she used to praise God, or to kiss her mother, or her brother--

Cesare was speaking before he realized he intended to say anything. “It can be good, with your mouth,” he said.

Lucrezia looked up at him. Her fingers were still on his hand, delicate. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was rounded in a circle.

“Brother,” she said. “Have you--”

Cesare swallowed hard. He hardly knew what he was saying. “I make my own confessions,” he said.

Lucrezia giggled. “I know,” she said. “I used to watch you, in confession. And--in what you did that merited it,” she laughed. “Oh,” she said. “I ought to confess that too. When I was younger I used to spy on you with the girls you brought home. They made such strange noises,” she seemed reflective. “It made me feel funny.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Cesare told her.

“Are you going to assign my penance, Brother?” Lucrezia said. 

He ought to. She should probably do more penance than he would ever assign her. 

Lucrezia was still looking up at him. “I should have absolution before I am wed.” She glanced down at their hands, and then back up at him. “Will you still hear my confession after I am wed? Will I be permitted, to see you--”

Her words broke off as he rose from the chair and picked her up in a bridal carry. He intended to hold her, only, to soothe her and distract her from the intolerable talk of what might happen after she was wed. 

He deposited her on the edge of the bed, and she fell against the mattress with her knees apart, and her skirts parted to reveal one of her ankles. He knelt in front of her, feeling as though he were the penitent. His hand found her bare calf. 

“Cesare--” her voice was questioning.

“I will never let him have you,” he said. “I will never let him hurt you. It should feel good, always,” and he disappeared under the frothy silk of her skirts.

It was a dark cave under her skirts, he found each of her legs with a hand and ran his hands up them, feeling the soft skin and fine hair until he reached the apex, and he leaned in to taste her, and he could hear her say, “Cesare!”, shocked.

Her thighs were so soft under his hands, tensing and shivering as he licked her. Her body was responsive, and she kept talking, the most filthy of words about what he was doing coming out in her angelic voice, and he thought absently that she was going to have to confess again, afterward.

She was leaking against his tongue, and he touched her folds gently with his fingers, thinking how easy it would be to slip one of his fingers inside of her. She was canting her hips up, asking for something she didn’t even know how to put into words.

He heard her words through a fever haze, and perhaps she understood better than he thought: “You can, please,” she said, “I want you to, I want it to be you, please, put it inside me, Cesare--”

He drew back involuntarily, horrified and yet so turned on he clutched at his cock to contain himself. The air outside her skirts was cooler and like a sudden breath of sobriety.

“Lucrezia,” he said. “I can’t--”

“Please,” she said again, and it was harder when he could see her face as she spoke. “I can’t abide if it is anyone but you--” she curled up, on the bed, reaching for him, her arm outstretched.

She was begging for it, and he had been desperate for hours, and her skirts were a mess, up around her waist, so he lost his self-possession and he took her. He rearranged his clothing, and he looked into her eyes, as he pushed clumsily against her maidenhead. Her eyes were wide and blue. He thought about how he loved her so much, and then his cock was inside of her he couldn’t stand it and closed his eyes for a moment.

Lucrezia made a small noise.

All either of them could say was each other’s name, murmured nonsensically at each other while their hips found a rhythm. 

He interrupted her repetitions of his name by kissing her, after a moment, and he kept her lips, pressing his own against hers intermittently, sharing breath and touching their lips almost chastely while they were joined in the least chaste way possible. Their lips had touched before, as siblings, always innocent, and this was now the same and also completely different.

Cesare knew that he shouldn’t finish inside of her. He had already taken her maidenhead, to leave his seed inside of her was another thing. And yet, perhaps it hardly mattered, she was his, now, and he did not intend to let anyone else have her. He was never giving her up. 

After she called out, tightening around him, finding her pleasure a second time, he finished inside of her, completing his claim. 

Nothing had ever felt as right as burying himself fully inside of her as he spilled. She was still clenching around him, shuddering with aftershocks, arms locked around his shoulders and her damp forehead pressed against his neck. She was panting as he grunted and shook, his cock throbbing, emptying himself deep inside of her. It was the best and the worst thing he’d ever done.

Cesare might have kept his face hidden against her neck forever, but she was not so patient. Before he had even fully caught his breath, Lucrezia was pushing at him.

Cesare didn’t understand at first, but he let her manipulate him on the bed until he understood she meant to undress them.

He helped her to untie the laces on her dress, and freed her from it rather than simply pushing her skirts up. He shed his own clothing.

Suddenly, she was naked, in front of him. Her eyes were knowing and her lips were curved. Her skin was pure and beautiful, a pearl of moisture visible between her legs in a filthy reminder.

It was much easier for Lucrezia to persuade him to a second round than it had been a first. 

Lucrezia wanted to ride him. She had always liked sitting in his lap, Cesare had observed, and he liked it more now, naked, looking up at her. She was like a manifest vision, a saint, a miracle. She struggled a little with the position, but he helped her to tilt her hips at the right angle so he could slide inside of her.

She raised herself too high, and giggled a little when his cock slipped out, and there was more delicious fumbling to seat her again.

He cupped her breasts reverently, brushing his thumbs over her pink, tight nipples. Her breasts bounced as she moved. They barely fit his palms but her nipples were large and sensitive, making her gasp and clench. Her golden hair tumbled down her back, and her thighs were pale and beautiful spread over his hips.

He was thrusting up into her. It felt right, to him, to have her over him that way. He felt at her mercy and the position matched how he felt. He could feel his own seed that he had spilled inside her before sliding down his balls along with her slick.

After he came, a second time, he rolled and pushed Lucrezia back on the bed. 

“How do you feel?” he said. 

“Good,” she purred. “Tender.” She smiled, mischievously. “I shall have to confess again.”

“Only to me,” he warned, and she made an agreeable noise.

He kissed her lips, and she met his eagerly, leaning up to meet him, but then he pressed her shoulder back on the bed as he pulled away and moved down her body.

She had closed her legs, chastely, and he placed his hand on one of her knees to part them again.

“Cesare--” she objected weakly. 

“I need to see--” he told her. Of course she was tender, she had been a maiden and he had taken her, twice. But he had to make sure that he hadn’t hurt her more than was to be expected, for a woman’s first time.

It hurt women, at first, that was part of Eve’s curse, but Lucrezia did not seem hurt, though she was swollen and red and slick, and, when Cesare bent in to taste her, unable to help himself, he could taste his own seed within her.

He was thinking all of the thoughts that he had refused to think earlier. How could she marry, now? What if he had planted a child within her, a living remnant of their sin, to remind him? What had he done? What would his father say? What would their mother say? 

He would have to kill her husband for certain, now. He had already spoken with Micheletto on the options to take care of Sforza, but they would have to move forward with the best plan they had come up with. 

And perhaps Cesare would take care of it personally. He wanted to see the knife go into Sforza. He wanted to know, the next time he took her, that he was in no danger of losing her to that bastard--except he couldn’t take her again, he told himself. He should have never done it the first time.

He rested his face against her thigh, breathing slowly. Lucrezia reached down and pet his head, gently. “I love you, Cesare,” she said.

His heart clenched again. “And I you,” he murmured.

There was a moment of quiet. He could hear her breath, the flickering of a torch, the sound her hand made stroking through his hair.

“Will you hear my confession again?” she said, finally.

It was an obscene question, given their position, both naked in the bed and the evidence of their sin still present on her skin. Her thigh, in front of his face, was reddened from his stubble. Her center was glistening with his seed. 

She should still be doing penance for the sins she’d confessed earlier; someone less lenient than him should be hearing her confession. But she was his. He had claimed her, and he was not going to let anyone else hear her confession any more than he was going to let anyone else touch her. “Go ahead.”


End file.
